Love Me With Fury

by Janelle Taylor

  Perhaps it had appeared insensitive and even cowardly to brashly swagger from Farrington Manor right in the middle of their heated dispute. Yet, it was clearly evident their verbal battle was taking a toll upon the enfeebled, elderly Will who continued to rule Farrington Manor with an iron hand and unbending nature. Things hadn’t changed; Will persisted in viewing him as an unruly, selfish, irresponsible youth. Will blindly refused to recognize the obvious changes within his grandson, who would eventually inherit his powerful position and large wealth.

  The quarrel had centered upon the same three topics: home, marriage, and a respectable Farrington image. Spencer could understand Will’s desire for his permanent return to Farrington Manor. But, Will could not accept the fact that his only heir was now firmly and happily entrenched in a new life in America. Will had scorned the carefree, bachelor life which Spencer was reputed to enjoy with numerous women and under very dangerous conditions. Will had stormed about the “wild oats” which he mistakenly presumed Spencer was indiscriminately sowing and rapaciously reaping in that crude frontier called America.

  But marriage had been the main concern of his dear grandfather, a man who had been like a stern and loving father to him from the age of fifteen when his father and mother had both died of an unknown disease.

  Marriage? Stephen Spencer “Joshua Steele” Farrington? The independent, enterprising, adventurous bachelor who guarded his freedom and pleasures as closely and fiercely as his life! No way! Besides, he had yet to meet any female who had more to offer him than a lovely face and a compliant body. Women were to be enjoyed, not wed and then chained by his side day and night for the rest of his life. Marriage was a stifling trap which he fully intended to avoid like the plague!

  Sir William Farrington wanted nothing less than for Spencer to instantly select some highborn lady from his endless list of eligibles and to marry her within the next month or so. Will had shouted and even threatened Spencer with disinheritance if he refused to settle down within the next year, present the proper image for a Farrington, and have children who would be the future heirs of the Farrington prestige and fortune.

  What was the big rush? he fumed. After all, he was only thirty-two years old. There was plenty of time to snare some mildly acceptable female whom he might learn to tolerate at his side for at least part of the time. At present, his life was too complicated, too perilous, too blissfully full to settle down. And, a vicious war was brewing…

  From his own observations, husbandly duties slowly drained a man of his prowess, his sense of adventure, his contentment. It gradually choked and entrapped him until he was nothing more than a rotund lord sitting before a cheerless fire, smoking a smelly pipe, waiting for several noisy brats to be put to bed, dreading his marital duties with some witless and plump wife, sneaking off to join his expensive mistress, taking care of mundane business affairs, growing old and weak and useless, missing out on the very best years of his life, wishing his boots were firmly planted upon the rolling deck of his ship with the ocean breeze caressing his serene face…

  What angered Spencer the most was Will’s audacity in actually approaching another lord about an arranged marriage to his no doubt dumpy, spinster daughter! What female of any value, would permit a repulsive union with a total stranger? What lady of any quality couldn’t find her own mate? How dare Will take it upon himself to imperiously choose him a wife, a proper mother for his future sons, a woman to share the most personal and valuable parts of his life!

  Spencer could almost hear Will’s amused, mocking laughter and none-too-gentle scolding. What if she was wealthy, refined, vivacious, charming, and beautiful! Oh yes, Will had also mentioned a noble lineage and rebellious air to match his own! There were plenty of available women with those same traits. What made Will think this particular female was so rare, so deserving of becoming Lady Farrington? Why would Will force such a spoiled, haughty lass upon his grandson? Spencer had no time for taming a pampered she-cat. If this female was truly so matchless, why was she still unattached at nineteen? Didn’t her constant refusals to countless suitors betray her vanity and undesirable traits? She surely had Will fooled!

  Men could be selective in marital matters; women could not, Spencer speculated. What gave this vain, willful female the right to scorn so many men whose genteel births and family fortunes made them valuable conquests? What kind of man could she be waiting for, if she even desired wedlock?

  Baffled and annoyed, he wondered why these men discarded their pride to grovel at the feet of an ice maiden. He was sorely tempted to meet her just to satisfy his curiosity. But time prevented such a spiteful pleasure. Will would not take kindly to his deflowering and disgracing of Lord Charles Hampton’s daughter. No doubt he would retaliate with an enforced marriage to the little tempestuous Circe! Lady Alexandria Hampton was a dreadful disease to be wisely avoided…

  A low, humorous chuckle came forth. He hadn’t even asked any questions about her. He had overheard enough colorful gossip to size her up accurately. His debate with Will had ended with his adamant refusal to meet or to further discuss Lady Hampton. No matter, he would never marry any woman under such despicable circumstances. He growled to himself in his black mood, “If and when Spencer Farrington weds, it will be to the most fascinating, unique woman in the world. And I certainly won’t be the one to melt that hard, cold statuette of ice!”

  A man of his reputation and prowess didn’t require any assistance in that particular field. If there was one thing Spencer could too easily accomplish, it was to have any woman he desired. He considered women as weak, frivolous, sexually ravenous, and dull-witted creatures. He had grown weary and bored with their clingy, possessive, irritating ways. He despised the flagrant flauntings, the crocodile tears, the rash threats, the foolish and annoying pleas, the voracious appetites, and the irritating farewells: the whole, sticky process of never being satisfied with the only parts of himself which he was willing to share: his sensual body and his lusty appetite. Never would he share his heart, his mind, his freedom, his soul!

  His turbulent thoughts whirled madly within his handsome head. His impending mission entered his already crowded brain. This trip would not be a tranquil one. There was great peril in his daring plans to steal the maps and documents from Lord Grantley’s safe and to spirit them back to President James Madison. Still, he had willingly taken on this dangerous mission; he was probably the only one who could pull it off with any measure of safety and success. Then, he was to head to Spain to confer with Joseph Bonaparte, that ineffective Frenchman to whom Napoleon had given the Spanish Crown.

  Napoleon wasn’t fooling anyone; it was no secret that he was holding King Ferdinand VII prisoner in Bayonne. It was also no secret that the Spanish had held elections in Cadiz, proclaiming a liberal constitution and suppressing the infamous Inquisition, futile and heroic as it was.

  But Spain controlled Florida, that area too close for comfort if lost to hostile British hands. Since France ruled Spain, Spain owned Florida, and France was presently battling Great Britain, the natural thing for them to do was offer the capable Americans a stronghold in Florida to protect her and America from British invasion. Now, all Spencer had to do was convince Joseph Bonaparte to agree to their location in San Augustin as mutual protection for both sides. It seemed a logical and reasonable proposition. Trouble was, the Bonapartes were not known for their wisdom, tolerance, or kindness.

  Spencer was intrigued by his unknown British contact who had demanded that an American representative hurry to London and steal a package of maps and papers which he claimed could affect America’s survival and defense. Why wouldn’t Madison divulge that man’s identity to Spencer, his trusted friend and employee? Madison should know by now that nothing could extort anything from Joshua Steele! In this case, Spencer felt Madison was being too secretive and protective. Still, Madison frequently jested, “A man can’t let slip what he doesn’t know, Spencer. Besides, I gave my word of honor that his name would never depart my l
ips. One day you’ll meet him; that I promise you.”

  Since his present visit had reopened old wounds, the only course left open to Spencer was to pick up the package in England, complete his mission to Spain, return to America with the dispatches and report from Bonaparte, and later return to Farrington Manor to bravely face the odious marriage that Grandfather Will wanted so desperately before he passed on. However repulsive, Spencer would eventually grant him his wishes.

  Spencer reined in his horse, curiously studying the white Arabian stallion lazily grazing without a tether or saddle. He wondered why anyone would be so careless as to allow such an exquisite beast to roam freely. No matter, he had enough problems of his own without giving time and energy to some stranger’s foolish dilemma. He tied his reins to a nearby bramble bush.

  He strolled over to the thick line of trees, avidly searching until he found the path into his secret hideaway. It had been many years since he had ventured here. He hoped the small pond was still there, as harmonious and entrancing as ever. It would be a miracle if the enclosed area was not completely overrun with tall grasses and tangly vines.

  Pushing aside the last hanging branch, he stepped into the sunlit clearing. He halted and closed his blue eyes, slowly taking in the fragrant, fresh air. He gradually released it once he had savored its heady, pleasing essence. His intent gaze began to lazily pass over the azure pond and the small gray boulders at the far end of this unique haven.

  His inquisitive orbes of steel blue stopped abruptly in stunned disbelief as they settled upon the magnificent creature who was sleeping so peacefully in his private domain. He rubbed his eyes in astonishment, then shook his head to clear it of this breathtaking illusion. He crossed the short distance which separated them in three easy strides, his black boots whisking silently over the lush grass. He wistfully gazed down at the enchanting goddess who lay slumbering at his feet.

  Was she real? Who was she? How had she come to be here in this paradise? The steady rise and fall of her bare bosom told him she was indeed alive and much too real.

  He bent down beside her, just at her tiny waist. His smoldering gaze began at her tawny head and leisurely moved all the way to her neatly trimmed toenails. Spencer’s respiration grew strained and labored. His senses ignited and flamed with acute desire; his groin tightened and pleaded for release, and his lips curled up in an appreciative curve.

  She possessed the exquisite face of an angel, the seductive body of a goddess, and the magnetism and mystery of a sea siren. Since she was boldly trespassing upon his private property and was wantonly lying naked in broad daylight—did that give him the unquestionable right to take advantage of this delightful situation?

  His torrid gaze drifted over to her garments which had been so impulsively and immodestly tossed aside to frolic au naturel. He grinned in satisfaction, for they were definitely the vestments of a commoner. What menial with a face and body like hers could still remain a virgin? No doubt her skills were tremendous and her experiences numerous, Spencer surmised.

  No female had ever denied him anything he wished. The idea that this sensual girl might resist or refuse him was totally absurd, impossible! A pleased smile claimed his sensual mouth; everyone knew that a ravishing serving girl belonged to any nobleman who could seduce her…He glanced around at their secluded, dreamy setting; no one would disturb their play. A devilish gleam flickered in his eyes and settled upon his striking face. He selfishly concluded that she was his for the taking. Anyway, if she were not a passionate woman at heart and a spirited adventuress, she would not be lying naked and inviting in his Elysium…

  Perhaps this beguiling vixen was actually waiting for him, plotting his own seduction, he mused. He should generously and chivalrously comply with her needs and wishes. This diversion was just what he needed to ease his tensions and to take his mind off of his troubles. It had been weeks since he had found a woman he wanted to bed. He stood up and nonchalantly stripped off his own clothes, dropping them beside hers in a neat pile.

  Observing her and his swollen manhood, he made his irrevocable decision…

  II

  “These violent delights

  have violent ends.”

  “A word and a blow.”

  —Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

  Towering over Alex, Spencer stared down at her, his eyes fusing to an igneous cobalt shade. Her hair surrounded her head like a halo of intermingled gold and silver. It was long and wavy with impishly wispy curls dancing upon her oval face. Her complexion was flawless and silky smooth; the lines of her lovely face were exquisite and sensually appealing. Her lips were soft and pink; a defiant pout claimed them even in deep sleep. A dainty chin hinted at that same willful, stubborn air. Spencer knew she couldn’t be less than seventeen or more than twenty.

  Although her breasts were firm and ample, they seemed to be still blossoming. Her waist was the smallest he had ever seen; her hips were nicely rounded and slim. Her shapely legs were supple and slender; her dainty ankles were small and strong. She had surely broken the hearts of countless swains. Yet, her obvious power over men irrationally vexed him.

  In past experiences, Spencer had discovered that extremely beautiful women were usually impetuous, haughty, and spoiled. They used their beauty and sensual appeal as weapons to force men to grovel at their feet, just like Cassandra!

  Cassandra…that spiteful, little witch had actually pulled the two lowest tricks in the book to try and subjugate him after his casual dismissal of her. After attempting every ploy and using every wile and charm she possessed, she had vindictively allowed him to catch her in bed with another man—his own bed at that! When that disgusting idea failed miserably, she had taken a bejeweled dirk and maliciously tried to castrate him, to deny him possession of any other female. No doubt her broken arm had smarted for quite a long time afterwards! Spencer grinned satanically as he sneered; no scheming female would ever get the best of him.

  He wondered why that little witch had come to mind after all these months. Gazing down at the nymph at his feet, he knew. Cassandra had boasted of nearly this same color hair and this same defiant expression. Yet, Cassandra’s beauty could not hold a candle to this ravishing creature’s. He absently wondered if Cass had finally married President Madison’s assistant. If she had cunningly managed to become Mrs. John Lindsdale, it was only to remain within arm’s length of the man she truly craved: himself!

  With that thought, he instantly eyed the third finger of Alex’s left hand which lay negligently over her flat stomach. He astutely noticed there was no wedding band there and sighed in relief; however, he carelessly failed to take note of the softness of those graceful hands which clearly proved they had never known menial labor.

  He gingerly positioned himself beside her, propping his head upon his hand. He cautiously snuggled his stalwart, nude frame against her golden flesh, resting his throbbing manhood at her hip. The coolness of her flesh felt good next to the fiery texture of his torrid extension. He stretched out an anxious hand to gently fondle the satiny flesh upon her stunning face, slender neck, and inviting shoulder. He ever-so-lightly traced his forefinger over her neck, down the hollow between her breasts, over her abdomen, and down her leg for as far as he could reach without moving at her side. She shifted and sighed. His touch was as light and warm as a summer breeze at mid-afternoon.

  He lowered his head to allow his mouth to confiscate hers in a pervasive, delicious kiss. He then trailed feathery kisses over her closed lids with their thick lashes and across her velvety cheeks, savoring their smoothness against his lips. He nibbled at her earlobes and parted lips. His hands deftly and boldly encroached upon her enticing body, very provocatively, so as to titillate her rather than to startle her. His assault was deliberate and sensuous.

  When he drew moist circles around her erect nipples with a warm tongue, a drowsy moan of rising passion escaped her lips. Alexandria sighed contentedly in blissful relaxation. Her lids fluttered, then opened to reveal eye
s the shade of precious emeralds. They slowly roved the handsome face and virile chest which loomed above them. A natural, innocent smile greeted him, bewitching him beyond reason. She sleepily gazed up into eyes of molten steel upon the face of Apollo.

  He sent her a beguiling smile in return, enrapturing her heart and enflaming her dream-blurred senses. His skillful fingers wandered into her amber curls, feeling the vitality and glossiness of them. He tenderly caressed her cheek with the back of his strong hand, admiring the soft perfection of her golden flesh. In her half-wakeful state, Alex snuggled her cheek against the hand which had halted its pleasing action.

  His head leaned forward; his mouth covered hers once more in a thorough and engulfing kiss. A tingling glow suffused her. She was instantly adrift upon a turbulent ocean whose powerful waves feverishly washed over her body, gradually pulling her into a dangerous whirlpool of heady desire. As he kissed the tip of her nose, liquid green eyes were captured by potent blue ones, expertly drawing her deeper and deeper into their seemingly bottomless depths, imprisoning her senses in an all-consuming abyss.

  Captivated by this stimulating dream, her arms went up to encircle his neck. Dreamily entrapped, she greedily held his mouth against hers for several more devastating kisses. Her senses reeled freely and wildly, filling her with the same carefree abandonment she experienced when racing the wind upon Ivory’s back. For the first time in her dreams, her elusive perfect man was at her side. He was kissing her, touching her, and holding her as no real man ever had.